A First Impression
by LadySeradeRETURNS
Summary: Baelfire and Belle meet for the first time, at the worst time. One Shot


A First Impression

The day was crisp. Spring was definitely in the air and right outside the big pink house at the end of the street, birds chirped their delight as the new day broke through. The sun had been up for almost a half hour and it was just about the right time for the small commuters to start their cars and go to work.

Neal had just pulled into the driveway and dangled his keys before him as he sifted through the few that were on the same ring. "I love NY" glistened in red and silver, catching the sun as he took the steps to the front door two at a time. Finding the right key, he pushed it into the lock and used his shoulder to nudge the door open, always taking a glance through the stained glass.

He had become familiar with his father's house by this time. He knew that his father, and now he, tossed his keys to the left side hutch that sat right inside the doorway. The same hutch that he had found his father's gun in and lectured him for what felt like eternity about the safety of having one in the house. He remembered as he berated his father like a four year old about regarding it so casually and threatened to never allow Henry to have a "family" visit if he didn't take care of it otherwise.

Neal ventured further into the house, walking into the kitchen and noticing that the coffee pot hadn't even been started. He figured his father was still up in bed and hadn't awoken yet. As a second choice, he opened the refrigerator door and looked for something to quench his morning thirst and settled upon some milk. Not bothering with a glass, Neal just took out the glass pint, uncorked the bottle and put it to his lips, taking a swig and wiping his mouth with his shirt sleeve as if he were a small child.

The house was quiet, almost too quiet, and he wondered why at this hour his father wasn't heard thumping on the second floor above him, getting ready to start his own day. Neal looked around, taking in his surroundings to notice if anything was out of place. Other than a chair to the table not pushed back into its proper place and a jacket of some sort draped over the back of the couch, nothing looked too out of sorts as far as he could tell. Then, his eyes settled on the wine bottle and two empty glasses on the coffee table in the living room. Had his father had company last night?

Clearing this throat, and feeling an awkward nervousness settling in his stomach, Neal walked around the breakfast counter to further investigate the clues. The couch had hidden everything from view, so he took a few steps further into the room and raised the milk pint to his lips for another swig. He missed his lips completely when he came upon a sight that, no matter what age, he was not ready for.

On the floor in front of the fireplace, soft blankets from the couch and throw pillows created a cozy little nest where two people slept soundly. His father laid on his back, limbs bare and about, completely oblivious to the onlooker and looking more relaxed than a man that had all kinds of deals and agreements resting on his shoulders. Tucked under his right arm comfortably was a beautiful brunette who appeared not much older than Neal and she hugged his father so tight in her state of slumber, that it appeared her life depended on it. It was very obvious that both bodies were very much nude under the blankets that hugged their forms, judging by the state of the clothing scattered about the room and the peek of side breast of the brunette who draped herself over his father's bare chest.

The seconds of realizing his father was, indeed, "entertaining" and the missed milk dribbling down his chin was enough to make his gasps alert the slumbering couple of his presence. The woman was the first to wake, seeing Neal leering over them and gripping her companion awake with a hurried shake as she pulled the bedclothes higher to hide them.

"Rumple! Rumple, wake up!" she said in desperation.

Rumplestiltskin woke up in a start from his deep sleep, prying his sleeping eyes open and looking around to quickly assess the situation and their surroundings. He reached for her, trying to calm her after seeing how worried she appeared, as if just waking from a nightmare. "Sweetheart, what's wrong? What are you-?"

"Pop?" Neal said exasperated, still stunned, frozen where he stood and just getting the dripping milk under control. He stumbled a few steps backwards, his brain trying to compute what had transpired probably only hours earlier.

Rumplestiltskin followed both the sound of his son's voice and the eye line of Belle who desperately pulled the bedcovers as high to her chest as she could, trying to hide her modesty. His old dark heart thumped into his throat and his gut plummeted to his toes with the realization that his son had just caught him...in the afterglow. Immediately, any muscle strength he had to sit up had vacated his body and Rumplestiltskin fell back against the blankets, running a hand over his face and into his hair, cursing under his breath.

"I hope that this," Neal started to say, gesturing to the pretty brunette nervously, hammering for words, "that this...is..."

Finally, Rumplestiltskin could no longer avoid the inevitable and leaned up on his elbows. The covers fell down to his waist, exposing the shadow of hair on his chest, and the guilt on his face. He reached a hand over to Belle and patted her wrist gently. "Belle, this is my son, Baelfire. Bae, this is Belle."

Belle and Neal's eyes met, connecting awkwardly, but with comforting recollection that in that room, under that roof, they were both the most important people in Rumplestiltskin's life. And at that moment, it was a silent understanding that melded the two together in an instant, breaking the tension with two very strained smiles.

"Hi," Neal said, offering a feeble wave of the free hand that didn't grip the bottle of milk like his life was at stake. He was still frozen to the spot he stood in, unable to move, or do anything else other than just stare.

"Hi," Belle replied, still hugging the bedcovers close to her chest. This wasn't how she wanted to meet his son for the first time, his handsome son at that, that one day might even tease her about calling her mom.

Running another hand over his face, trying to force himself more awake he mumbled as if this situation needed an explanation. "Belle got her memory back and we-"

"-sort of celebrated. Yeah, pop, I kind of figured that out." Neal averted his eyes, trying to focus on something, anything else, in the room from seeing any more bits of his father's girlfriend. "Nice to meet you, Belle."

"Likewise, Baelfire."

"This was not the way I wanted this to go," Rumplestiltskin said, feeling for once, that the roles were reversed between father and son. He offered his son a consoling look, trying to show the sincerity in his statement, but Neal just smiled and shook his head, walking back into the kitchen and giving the two a chance to collect themselves and a bit of their dignity.


End file.
